The Girl Who Writes On Maple Leaves

The box

pov : Qadira Khan

23 January 2030

Assalamualaykum  guys  is a new day. I was dreaming to win  the  best seller award for my first book. Dreams can become real if you open your  eyes and work for them I guess. 

In sha Allah ameen. I love writing stories, and for my eight years old i was quite creative and that is all thanks to my dna and mostly for my mum , i hope she is looking at me up there and send me a beautiful dua*.

I missed her even if i never knew her . She died while giving birth to me and it still breaks my heart to know that she died for me. 

Tears stay where you are please do not cross the borderline.

Don't be sad , guys , and let me introduce myself.

My name is Qadira Khan ,if i had a besty he or she could call me Qay, but I am not that social. I am very shy , but have the talent of being intelligent.

 I live in Montreal , Canada and i go at  the Elizabeth Ballantyne Elementary school in Montreal West.

My mum was from Italy , but with origins from Mauritus , and my dad was born and raised in Mauritius, so I am italo-mauritio-canadian? I will say i am from Turkey , is more credible if someone looks at my arabic face features: white skin with deep hazel eyes and long lashes . 

Full pink lips as if I put lipstick on , and believe if it was lipstick my dad could kill me, but is all natural . 

Long dark brown curly hair , that i was breading like my father taught me a year ago, cause you must know that my father before becoming a best selling romantic  wirter  he studied and worked as professional hairstylist and haircolorist and he still has the magic hand for that , infact during weekends he opens the , once my nursery and playing room , into his saloon. It will always be his first artlove. 

After  putting on the last rubber band , i looked at my slim body into my funny unicorn pyjama thinking on what was the outfit of today, even if I was a very simple girl , i had to dress well cause my dad loves to see me well dressed and thinks that if  I put on a simple pair of jeans and a large hoodie people will think that I am homeless. 

I open my wardrobe and search for something yellow ,due the sunny day, and I found in the sweater's section a dark yellow long one ,a little bit oversize to be confortable , with  maple leaves design, and in the leggins section i found a dark brown one. Even if  while looking at me in the mirror  this outfit gave me autumn vibes , and we were in winter , i loved it. 

I didn't like to make up , it was a waste of energy and time , but just come into my class , you will see all that mean girls with make up on as if they are fifteen. 

That half an hour was a plus for me while waiting my father to call me and i liked to use it to write on my diary: 

"Dear mum ,

I am so exited today. .

Come on, dear mum ,you know is that moment of the year where  Mrs. Lall gives a story to write , a workshop , if we want to call it like that. 

" You  used to say that writing builds your own little word" Abba* Jun used to say me this everytime I am exited to write something. 

this year she said that due that we are growing she wants us to write a story , a love story. I am growing up fast , Maa , and everytime I write something new , i discover a new world and new words . I will know what love is , even if looking at how Abba talks about you is enough , but he never told me your love story and maybe he is waiting me to grow up..."